


A Beautiful Facade

by inquisitivearchie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 07:51:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11550789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitivearchie/pseuds/inquisitivearchie
Summary: Hermione Jean Malfoy thought that she had the perfect life – a loving husband and a beautiful son. But all that glitters is not gold. The Holiday Season wasn’t going to be what she hoped for.





	A Beautiful Facade

December 15, 1999

Hermione Malfoy was busy folding little garments in a large bedroom at Malfoy Manor. The walls of the room were green and silver, courtesy of her dear husband; the shades matching their own elegant master bedroom.

“Draco, what is with this colour?!” Hermione exclaimed, rubbing her soft hands over the swell of her abdomen. At 7 months pregnant, she felt cranky and tired almost the entire day. “Our rooms are already green enough. Don’t you think the baby needs to see some other colours too? Maybe something in purple or blue? Or even something reddis…”

“Red?! That is a disgusting colour and too harsh for a baby, Hermione. Our son will take pride in the Malfoy colours. And green is good for Scorpius’s eyes. So, you should sit down and let me do my job, o dear wife!” Draco drawled, making Hermione roll her eyes. 

“There is no way you can know that we are having a boy, Draco. And how did you even come up with that name?” Hermione asked him in amusement. It was funny really, Draco being sure that they were having a boy.

“We are having a boy, my darling. You will see. And we are naming him Scorpius Draconis Malfoy.”

That was then. 

Now, nearly 2 years later, Scorpius was the apple of his father’s eye. With a blonde mop of hair exactly like Draco’s but with her set of brown caramel eyes, Scorpius was perfect. Hermione could not have been happier.

She glanced over at the wooden carved mantelpiece, at the pictures adorning it. Her favourite one was where she had her baby wrapped in her arms. Scorpius was one at that time.

She could hear her little boy prancing about in his play room and Curly, the house elf in charge of her son, was keeping an eye on him.

“Winky!” Hermione called upon her personal elf.

A loud crack made Hermione jump. Draco often teased her about her inability to get used to the sound. It was odd, honestly; having born and raised in a magical world, she should not have trouble with such natural sounds. Hermione pushed that thought behind and turned to the little creature.

“Winky, can you put these clothes in the boxes in the store room? Scorp grew out of these and they are lying here, just making a mess. Will you be able to put them in the right box, so that we can give them to the orphanages?”

Winky’s eyes watered; clearly he did not know which boxes Hermione was talking about.

“Please don’t cry Winky. Here, you carry these and I will show you the boxes. Come.” Hermione left the bedroom and made her way to the end of the hallway where the store room was; the little elf trailing behind her, his arms full of baby clothes. 

The store room was old and dark, and one of Hermione’s least favourite places in the Manor. 

“Lumos!” Bright light spread across the room. Hermione could see some empty crates at the very back and moved forward to grab one of them.

“Here you go Winky, take this. Eek! Bollocks!” Hermione had stumbled upon another box, spilling the contents onto the ground. “Don’t worry, Winky. I will clean this up. Can you put the clothes first?”

The little elf replied with a meek “Yes, Mistress!” and started piling the clothes on one of the boxes.

There were some old tattered clothes on the floor around her. She picked them up gingerly, confused at what these were doing in the store room. The unused clothes were usually given to charities and those torn, put in the rubbish pile. 

There was an old grey woollen trench-coat, stained at the arms and sides; the dark colour of the stain standing out against the lighter grey. 

“What?” Hermione mumbled softly.

A pair of jeans and another full sleeved shirt also lay on the ground, the same stain covering them. Although now, she could see what the stain was. 

Blood! It was blood!

She felt faint. 

Picking up the other clothes, she rubbed them with her fingers, feeling the familiar material. “What is all this?” She closed her eyes to remember anything - something that would give her an indication of why she felt like these clothes, these tattered bloody clothes, were hers...

“Crucio!”

Hermione gasped. She held on to the nearby wall to support herself. 

“Mistress! You alrights? Mistress want Winky call Master Draco?” the elf squeaked anxiously. 

“N-No Winky, I am feeling f-fine. Just stood up quickly, that’s all. You may go back to your work.” 

What was that? She felt a faint pain course through her, something she had never felt before. Crucio was an unforgivable, wasn’t it? But who would apply Crucio on her? Well, it certainly felt like it was applied on her! Hermione’s mind was working furiously. She could not understand what all these thoughts were. She closed her eyes again in the hopes of seeing or feeling anything more.

 

“Harry!”...and laughter...Lots of laughter... The faint sound of a train...The vivid smell of a feast... “Gryffindor!!” 

These thoughts rammed into her mind and her eyes filled with tears. Something was not right. Something happened to her. She did not feel like Hermione Malfoy. Who was she? Who was this Harry? Why did that name sound so familiar to her? And more importantly, why did it make her heart ache like it was going to split in two any second? 

And Draco? Draco had never talked of a Harry before. Is he not telling her something she is supposed to know? Things are not adding up with Harry and Crucio and all these visions! She could swear she had never heard of this Harry before. Was he someone she knew in Bulgaria? Did Draco know him? But he had never, in the last four years said anything. Or was he trying to hide something? But why? Was that why she sometimes felt anxious when Draco was in the room with her? Was he not her husband? Was Scorpius not...

 

No! That could not be. Scorp was her son, her baby. She remembered going through a day’s labour to bring him to this world, Draco by her side all throughout the birth. Even Narcissa, her cold mother-in-law, had been in the birthing room with her, murmuring words of encouragement.

Was her family not her family? Of course Draco was...she loved him, and he loved her as well. 

Who were these people then? And why was she even having these flashbacks all of a sudden? 

She turned towards Winky and felt this unexpected sadness watching upon the little elf’s labour, almost like she was forcing the little one to work. What? Why? She had never felt this way before!

She needed to know. She needed to know the truth. But could she ask Draco? No. She could not now. He had already been so busy lately; she didn’t need to add on to his woes, right? If there was one thing Hermione was sure about herself, it was her gut instinct. She needed to trust herself in this. She would try to remember what had happened. If she had seen bits and pieces of another life and this Harry person, there was obviously something hidden in her mind. She needed to access them. Somehow. Anyhow. And herself. 

Putting the clothes back to where they were, Hermione composed herself and asked Winky to leave the work for the next day. 

Closing the door behind her, she made her way to Scorp’s play room. 

She heard Draco’s voice, the voice that would have calmed and thrilled her even moments ago, was now giving her chills and not in a good way. She entered the room slowly, and saw Draco on the floor with Scorpius, helping him stack the blocks.

 

“Hi,” Hermione said softly and approached them.

Both the men in her lives turned to her with the same mesmerizing smile and her chest hurt. Her little boy shouted “Mama, mama, bocks!” pointing towards the poor stack of blocks on the floor which were leaning dangerously to one side.

“Yes honey, blocks!” Hermione scooped her son up in her arms and kissed him soundly. Cradling him in his arms, she turned to Draco, who was staring at them with a fond smile. He slowly got up from the floor and walked towards them. Wrapping a large hand around his wife’s waist, he captured Hermione’s lips in a searing kiss.

When once Hermione would have felt overjoyed and loved, she now felt as though someone had thrown a bucket of ice cold water over her. Fearing that Draco might suspect something, she reciprocated the kiss. He let go of her after a few minutes and rubbed her cheek with his palm.

“Where were you? I didn’t see you in our room as well as Scorp’s. You did not tell me you had plans to go out today.” Draco’s voice almost had an accusing tone to it.

“Oh no, I wasn’t out. I was in the store room today, helping Winky out with some old clothes” Hermione said tentatively.

It was pure luck that Hermione was extra vigilant or she could have missed how Draco’s eyes widened slightly and a flash of fear passed through them. A blink later, it was gone.

“Clothes!? What clothes? And why were you helping the elf? It was given to you, to help you. Not for you to help it!” Draco’s temper was flaring, she could tell.

“You misunderstand Draco. Winky carried Scorp’s old clothes and I just showed him where to keep them.” 

Draco’s silver eyes scanned her face as Hermione tried her best to remain calm.

“Huh. Alright. Have you had lunch? I am starving.” He quickly changed the topic.

Draco’s relief was visible to her. She was sure now. Obviously, there was something going on and Draco had a hand in it. She needed to be careful. If this was a game, she would make sure to win it.

“No, I was just waiting for you. Let’s go and have lunch. Lunch Baby Scorp! Will you eat lunch?” Hermione put her son down and took his small hands in her own. Draco held his other hand and together they walked down the stairs to the dining room.

Scorp’s little voice screaming “Samwich! Samwich!” and Draco’s rich laughter could be heard all over the first floor where the happy family resided.


End file.
